


catching feelings

by pouncival



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Just Saying but spot/jack is an underrated ship its so go o d, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pouncival/pseuds/pouncival
Summary: Spot and Jack were friends with benefits, and that was all. Or, at least, that's what Spot liked to tell himself.





	

Spot and Jack were friends with benefits.

That’s what had been decided on after that first night, when they lay beside each other, breathless, and Jack had rolled over to look at Spot, raising his eyebrows.

“Meant nothin’, Kelly.” 

Jack shrugged and smirked, sitting up to pull his undershirt back on. That smirk pissed Spot off. It was like he was implying something- and he glanced back with a cocky grin at Spot.

“But you liked it, hey?”

If looks could kill, Jack would be a dead man. But instead, being the arrogant fuck that he was, he kept speaking. “Don’t s’pose you’d wanna do it again sometime?”

Well. As much as he hated to say it, he did. But Spot wasn’t the kind to just openly admit that, so instead he just shrugged, sitting up and tugging his shirt back on. “Maybe.” Jack finished buttoning his shirt up while shaking his head, with some kind of stupid smile on his face, and had left with a wink. Spot buried his head into his pillow and tried not to let his mind linger- Spot never lingered on anyone.

So that’s how it had been- because that maybe had meant yes and then they found themselves fucking regularly. They’d meet, at a party or to discuss business between Manhattan and Brooklyn, or just to hang out as friends, then end up making out, then in Spot’s bed, and then before they knew it Jack was heaving himself out of the bed and getting dressed again, leaving to go back to Manhattan.

Spot had made it a personal challenge to see how long Jack needed to lie down afterwards. The rougher he fucked Jack, the longer he lay around, still naked, in his bed. It wasn’t because he liked having Jack around, really. It was more about… admiring Jack and his body and everything. Spot could never deny that he was attractive, because he wouldn’t be having sex on the regular with him if he wasn’t. But he could never admit that he didn’t just find Jack’s body attractive, but the way he grinned at Spot, the smirks he shot him when getting redressed, the way that Jack in particular moaned when Spot touched him in particular ways, the way that Jack acted when he was pinned under Spot. The looks that Jack gave him when they were meeting for business only purposes, the ones that reminded Spot of those nights and left him unnecessarily horny for a ridiculous amount of time afterwards. He just watched how long Jack stayed as a sign of how good he was at fucking him, and that was all.

He was sure of that until the time that it had been an hour and a half, and Jack was still lying on his side, eyes closed, and Spot leaned over, gently shoving his shoulder. “Oi, Kelly. You aight?” The casual words were laced with more concern than Spot was comfortable showing, and Jack looked up, opening his eyes and looking at him with a fucking adorabley stupid sleepy face.  
“Mmm. ‘M fine. Tired. I’ll get up in a sec,” he promised, inching closer to Spot. Spot froze when Jack buried his head in his chest, nuzzling closer. This was not what he had signed up for. He’d signed up for sex, for sex and then nothing else, no cuddling, no kissing, and no feelings. But when Jack’s breathing slowed down, evening out and his body wasn’t tense anymore, his chest slowly rising and falling, Spot couldn’t bring himself to wake Jack up. Instead, he wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer- because then it was easier for him to fall asleep too, Spot justified- and burying his head into Jack’s hair (thank god the tall fuck slept so low down on the bed), he fell asleep too.

When he woke up to an empty bed and the faint sound of the door closing, Spot wished he could truly say he wasn’t disappointed. He didn’t know what he wanted- what, waking up and making Jack a cup of coffee with a good morning kiss? The thought made Spot laugh. No, it wasn’t that- but the lack of warmth in his arms left a hollow feeling in his stomach.

When they fucked the next time, Jack awkwardly hovered for a while afterwards, before moving closer to Spot. Spot didn’t push him away, even though he wasn’t half asleep this time. By the next time, Spot just pulled Jack in close afterwards and buried his head into the crook of Jack’s neck, not saying anything and glad he couldn’t see the shit eating grin he was sure Jack had right now. It didn’t mean anything. After sex cuddles were just easy, it was better than sending Jack home right afterwards, Spot told himself. Because that was rude, or something. Maybe for someone who wasn’t- he wanted to say casual, but Jack was casual. He wanted to say someone who wasn’t meaningful to him, but’d mean admitting how much Jack meant to him. Maybe for someone who wasn’t Jack Kelly, Spot settled on. The fact that he needed his own category was a concern of its own, but a concern for another time.

As time passed, their meetups got more frequent. It’d begun as a once, maybe twice a month thing. Now, Jack was pressed under Spot in his bed at least once a week, if not more. And it was becoming different. Their sex was just as rough as always, if not moreso when Spot didn’t know where to put his pent up energy and Jack seemed more than happy to reciprocate. But before and after were different. 

Jack would greet Spot with a kiss, a gentle one. The time spent kissing and making out before sex grew, and the amount of kisses that were pressed to each others bodies was increasing. Spot was finding words stuck in the back of his throat more often (three words in particular), and instead of saying them he found himself holding their kisses longer during sex, holding Jack closer, taking glances up at his face.

Not only that, but Jack was doing the same. He’d try pulling the sappy romantic shit, kissing during sex, but in a soft, gentle way rather than the usual rough making out. He wouldn’t only nuzzle into Spot when he was tired, but whenever they were done. One time, while they were cuddled up together, Jack’s hand just so happened to, on purpose or not Spot had no idea, land in his, and Spot hesitated before intertwining their fingers, pretending he was a lot tireder than.

They’d started cuddling before, too, intertwined on the couch as they watched TV. It always eventually led to sex (mostly because Spot was anxious to leave it at just cuddling, because that meant it meant something.) But the amount of time they spent watching trashy tv, laughing together and lounging in a hundred various different positions all over each other increased. Not only that, but it increased without any decrease in sex time. Spot found himself in Jack’s company more and more at a quick rate, but not one that he was complaining about, at all. Jack started sleeping the whole night through after they slept together, and whoever woke up first would make the other breakfast- so, toast (burnt if Jack made it, that useless fuck can’t even toast toast right) and coffee. 

As it became concerningly domestic, it became increasingly difficult for Spot to deny that he was feeling something other than horniness and lust when he was having sex with Jack. Hell, even when he wasn’t- if they were just chatting, or he saw one of Jack’s posts on twitter, or he was just lying in bed trying to sleep at night, Spot’s mind lingered. Jack’s soft kisses and gentle touches replayed in his head. Spot wanted more than anything to know what they meant to Jack- because it got to a point where everything Spot did meant something. 

_I like you_ , said his arm wrapping around Jack’s waist. _I want to date you_ said his head buried in the crook of his neck, complaining about how late they’d stayed up the night before. _I love you_ said the gentle kisses. 

Spot never planned on actually saying any of this. The idea that Jack could reject him (or laugh at him and make fun of him or tell everyone) was overwhelming, more so than the hope that Jack could like him back. 

But one morning, when he had flipped the kettle and was waiting for the toast to pop, and suddenly Jack’s arms were around his waist, kissing the back of his neck and muttering a sleepy good morning, Spot wasn’t sure he could handle it anymore. Jack pulling him in tight, the feeling of his breath against his neck and knowing that Jack was doing this for absolutely no reason other than wanting to... He turned around, looking up at Jack- who looked fucking adorable, still shirtless and a ridiculous bedhead- and frowned.

“What are we?”

Jack hesitated for a second. He clearly hadn’t expected that question. Maybe he didn’t want to be asked that question. But Spot had been feeling like this for months, and he decided it was about fucking time. 

“Uh,” Jack avoided eye contact, looking down at the floor. “You said, after it first happened that you just wanted to be friends with benefits.” There was a small silence, before Jack looked up. “But, since then I’ve… caught feelings.”

Spot snorted at the wording. Caught feelings. Then, when he saw Jack’s crestfallen face, he realised he probably thought that he was laughing at him. Spot shook his head, frowning at himself before taking a step forward and reaching out, grabbing Jack’s arm.

“Yeah. That.” He hesitated, “Feelings. I caught ‘em too.” Jack’s face turned from a frown to a grin, and then he was kissing Spot, gently and softly and in all the ways Spot had told himself that they meant nothing, and the realisation that they meant something filled him with the gayest fucking feeling on earth. He could stay here all day, kissing Jack in his kitchen in their pajamas as the kettle was boiling to the faint sounds of whatever they’d left on the TV last night. But first, Spot had to confirm something.

Spot pulled away, giving Jack a small smirk. “You still didn’t answer the question, dumbass.” Jack cocked his head. “What are we?”

Jack rolled his eyes, smiling. “Well, if I got my way… boyfriends?”

Boyfriends. The kind of people who held hands, kissed all the time, made breakfast for each other, had TV shows that they watched together and only together, cuddled on the couch… The kind of people who loved each other. He thought that summed up Jack and Spot pretty well.

“Yeah,” Spot nodded. “Boyfriends is good.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! please consider this ship im love it sm.... leave kudos and comments and stuff if you liked it n all!!


End file.
